Day of Judgment

[Warren Stupidity]

The Messiah floated gently down Eighth Avenue, His arms spread wide, as if to hug mankind. Traffic stopped and people gawked, their eyes and iPhones pointed toward the heavens. All who gazed upon Him knew at once why He was here: Earth was saved and all their pain was ending.

His throne came to a stop above Times Square, beside the giant Sony screen. He was fifty feet tall and beautifully proportioned, with golden skin and eyes like polished sapphires. A pair of cherubs sat on his shoulders, playing silver trumpets. Their song was so beautiful that it moved people to tears.


“I am the Messiah,” the deity announced, as if there were any question. “And I have come to bring you all salvation.”

Some reporters had assembled on the street. The Messiah smiled down on them indulgently.

“Feel free to ask me what you wish,” He said. “Chris Matthews, you can go first.”

“Thank you,” the news anchor said. He was trying his best to remain composed, but his cheeks were damp with tears. “What, exactly, do you mean by ‘salvation’?” he asked.

“All suffering will cease,” the Messiah answered. “And Earth shall be turned into a heaven.”

The crowd cheered wildly. Strangers embraced. The elderly danced like children.

“Anderson Cooper, you go next. You’ve had your hand up the longest.”

“Thank you,” the correspondent said. “I was wondering what this means for the world’s poor?”

“Deliverance,” the Messiah said. “The poor shall eat, the lame shall walk, and all wars shall be ended! ” The cheering grew so loud that the Messiah had to shout to be heard. “O.K., who’s next? How about you, Al Roker?”

The cheering stopped.

“What’s wrong?” the Messiah asked. The cherubs whispered something into His ear.

“Oh,” He said, turning pale. “I’m sorry. I meant Al Sharpton.” He cleared His throat and forced a smile. “Go ahead, sir! ”

Al Sharpton glared up at Him, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

“You were going to ask me something?” the Messiah pressed on. “Go ahead, ask away.”

“O.K.,” Al Sharpton said. “I guess my question is: Why did you confuse me with Al Roker?”

“Look, I’m sorry about that,” the Messiah said. “It’s just that you’re both named Al, and you’re both on TV.”

Sharpton raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure it’s not because we’re both African-American?”

“It’s not that! ” the Messiah said. “I’m just really bad with faces. Ask anyone.”

“If you’re so bad with faces, how come you recognized Chris Matthews?” Sharpton asked. “Why didn’t you confuse him with Chris Hayes?”

The crowd murmured in agreement as the cherubs exchanged a worried glance.

“Look, this is crazy,” the Messiah said. “It was an honest mistake. I’m the Messiah—I love all mankind! I’m not racist, O.K.? I’m not racist! ”

The cherubs tugged on His robe, but the Messiah kept defending Himself and making everything worse.

“You’re both named Al! You’re both on TV! I’m not racist! ”

....

More here. New Yorker January 11 2016 edition.